Price never fancied himself an optimist, but damn, did he wish he was one. It was hard to see what happened to the world once the nuke hit. He never thought anyone would actually do it, but he guessed they were lucky to still be alive...

England was the only country hit before they managed to put a stop to the bombings, but it was a shock that struck the whole world. History showed that even those who survived would be in poor condition, almost to the point of helpless. And it was a grim job to comb the outskirts of the blast radius, where the gamma levels were still high and the Geiger meter grated at your ears. But someone had to do it.

Price trudged alone through the once prosperous wheat field, the dead and dried grain crunching under his feet despite the humid air. The thought of someone consuming this stuff now that it had been eradiated made his stomach turn. Nothing was alive out here, or so he thought.

Eventually, he came across a cabin, perched on a small hill, the gate held open by a chain and lock. The fifth one he'd come across. This one, though, didn't look as bad as the other dwellings. But the possibility of survivors was low.

He let himself in, taking note of the tidy kitchen and the open book on the counter. Remarkably neat, even with what looked like a few pieces of shattered glass to the side.

"Anyone here?" He tried for the first time, an odd feeling settling in his chest. Something felt different here. No response came, so he went deeper into the cottage, stopping by the couch. It was a cozy place, with plenty of handmade blankets and books scattered around. But something caught his eye. The fireplace. Coals were glowing.

He was about to inspect the hearth when something far more surprising caught his attention. A cough.

Price spun around, quickly spotting the door to what he assumed was a bedroom. Without really thinking of manners or even protocol, he hurried forward, hoping that despite all odds, someone was alive.